It would have killed me to hear the end of the sentence. I remember staring at the keys then at the face of the man I’d thoughtI’d be with forever. As he stared back at me, dark eyes flashing with what seemed to be contempt, I couldn’t see anything of the Andy I loved. I gently pushed the keys away, shook my head then said, ‘And here was me thinking I was the most important thing in your life.’
‘My career’s important,’ he snarled. ‘I told you not to come. Why didn’t you listen?’
‘I did listen. But I stupidly thought you might be missing me as much as I was missing you.’ I swallowed on the lump in my throat as I willed him to take me in his arms and say, ‘Of course I miss you. I’m glad you came really.’ Instead, he just put his keys back in his pocket, looked at his watch and tutted. The sound pierced through my heart.
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I won’t waste more of your precious work time. If you haven’t got the time to see me or speak to me, what’s the point in being together anymore?’ I paused, hoping he’d say something to convince me there was still hope for us but he just stared back, frowning. I picked up my bag. ‘I’ll be off, then. I hope you and your career will be very happy together.’ It was a stupid line but it was the only thing I could think of at the time. ‘Goodbye, Andy.’ I paused again, my eyes pleading with him to recover this. Silence. With shaky legs, I walked back towards the underground, head held high, tears streaming.
My resolve crumbled within about ten paces. I stopped and turned around, half expecting to see Andy slumped on the steps, crumpling with regret, or – even better – chasing after me and begging me to take him back. Instead, he’d gone inside, presumably back to his ‘important’ work. The knife twisted deeper. In a daze, I caught the tube to King’s Cross and boarded the next train to York, anxious to be surrounded by people who really did care about me. I was too late for a connection to Whitsborough Bay, but my parents drove to York to collect me. Mum sat in the back and cuddled me like a child while I sobbed all the way home.
It had taken two years before I felt strong enough to compose an email to Andy. At a loose end one weekend, I’d decided to sort through a box of photos and put them in albums. I came across the one of Andy and me in Rhodes that I used to have stuck on the fridge. Tanned and radiating with happiness, I’d thought it was onlya matter of time before he proposed. I’d never have predicted that we’d split up by the end of the following November.
Looking at the photo, I realised I didn’t feel angry or hurt anymore. Instead, I felt happy with nostalgia so I sent a quick ‘hi-how-are-you?’ email. Andy replied immediately saying it was good to hear from me. The emails got longer and more regular and the friendship was gradually restored, our messages even becoming quite flirty. I was convinced that we’d get back together one day, when the timing was right.
It was a year before we broached the subject of meeting up for a drink, but by the time we finally co-ordinated our diaries, I’d met someone else and he’d been offered a short secondment overseas – the first of many. And so began the pattern of it never being the right time to try again.
‘And now he’s finally coming back to the UK for good and I’m single,’ I whispered into Mr Pink’s fur, ‘but I don’t know if he’s single or still with Kelly. Or someone else. And anyway, I’m not exactly local. It would never work.’
Even if he was single, was it too late to try again after all these years? Eight years was a hell of a lot of water under the bridge.
I reached out and switched off my bedside lamp. ‘Location isn’t the only problem,’ I whispered to Mr Pink. ‘He isn’t called Steven.’
13
I had a fitful night’s sleep and was wide awake shortly before half six. My head felt hangover-fuzzy yet I hadn’t touched a drop. Drawing back the curtains, it was still dark but, from the tranquillity, I knew the storm had passed… for now. The sun would be rising within the hour: a stunning spectacle. There was nothing I loved more than being on the beach when the sun peeped over the horizon then steadily rose into the sky behind Lighthouse Point. It was a sight that was way overdue for me.
Twenty minutes later, I steered Mum’s car down the approach road to South Bay. The gradually lightening sky was speckled with pink and orange in stark contrast with the silhouette of the lighthouse and harbour. To top off the picture-perfect scene, lights twinkled around the curve of the bay. Absolutely beautiful. Why had I traded this for big cities for so many years?
I parked the car on the seafront and headed down a few steps onto the sand. Seaweed and driftwood strewn across the beach and promenade hinted at the storm that had raged hours earlier, but all other signs were gone as the gentle waves lapped onto the sand a few hundred metres out. I perched myself on the edge of the beach wall and inhaled the salty air.
Soon after, I was treated to an orange arc peeping over the horizon, casting a welcoming glow across the calm sea. Sunrise on thebeach: stunning. Absolutely stunning.And suddenly I had an overwhelming compulsion to run. Me. The person who’d shunned exercise for a year. It was going to hurt but I wanted to do it.
I had the beach almost to myself as I jogged slowly along the hard sand, dodging round lumps of seaweed. I could make out the silhouettes of a couple of people walking dogs and two more runners in the distance. The peace gave me time to think and, by the time I’d made it back to my starting point, I’d reached a decision. I wasdefinitelygoing to give online dating a try. Targeted online dating as Clare suggested: only Stevens. Andy returning to the UK and us both being single could have meant something if I’d still been in London, but my present circumstances made it a non-starter. So we’d just continue as friends who occasionally emailed each other and I’d bury any thoughts of it finally being the right timing for us – since it clearly still wasn’t. If I was ever in London, I’d look him up, but with a business to run and weekends committed to doing that, me being in London was a very unlikely scenario.
Bending over, hands on my thighs, I gulped in deep breaths of cold air while my heartbeat steadied. I sat down on the cold sand and smiled as I drank in the blazing ball of fire behind the red and white striped lighthouse.
With another deep breath, I lay back on the sand, eyes closed, feeling trickles of sweat run down my hairline and into my ears. How very attractive.I hoped none of the joggers or dog-walkers were Stevens because sweaty, beetroot-red, and breathless wasn’t the most alluring of looks.
I lay there for a few minutes listening to the distant waves, the cry of gulls, and feeling the slowing of my heartbeat. Despite the physical exertion, I felt more relaxed than I’d felt in a very long time.
‘Sarah? I thought it was you.’
Nick? I snapped open my eyes. He was silhouetted against the sun, but it was definitely him. My heart began beating faster again as I propped myself up on my elbows and put my hand up to shade my eyes as I squinted at him. ‘Hi. What are you doing here?’
‘Same as you by the looks of it.’
‘Sweating buckets and having a coronary on the beach?’
Nick laughed and reached his hand out to me. ‘Want a hand up?’
I nodded. ‘Your hands are very warm,’ I said as he pulled me to my feet.And very soft.An image filled my mind of those hands cupping my face, and then his fingers running through my hair as he kissed me.Whoa! Where did that come from?
‘And yours are very cold,’ he said. ‘Here.’ He encased my hands in his and rubbed them quickly. I looked at our joined hands, then into his eyes. In that brief moment, it felt like everything around us stopped. I was oblivious to the lapping of the waves and the cries of the gulls that had been so clear moments before. I was, however, still very aware of the thud-thud of my heart as I lost myself in his twinkling blue eyes. He reached up to my face with one hand and gently caressed my cheek as I held my breath… and his gaze. ‘You have some sand on your cheek,’ he said but he didn’t move his hand and I didn’t want him to. He was going to kiss me. And I didn’t want to stop him.
‘Ebony! Stop!’
We both turned as a large black Labrador leapt up at Nick, knocking him sideways.
‘I’m so sorry. Ebony! Here now!’ An elderly woman gave us an apologetic glance before she chucked a ball for Ebony who bounded after it. Peace was restored but the moment was lost. Damn bloody dog.
